Swat Standoff

“I’m upset that you got yourself fired. And I’ll be really upset if you don’t try to talk to Dillon to get your job back. Maybe if you just apologize to him, explain your side—”

“That’s why I’m here. I mean, other than trying to fix things between you and me. I came here because I did try to contact Dillon. I wanted to meet with him, just the two of us, and talk this thing out.”

“Oh, well, that’s great. We’re supposed to go back to Hawkins Ridge for another exercise in the morning, around nine. Maybe you could go up there and talk to him then, while the rest of us are getting everything set up.” She frowned. “Why are you giving me a funny look? What’s wrong?”

“It could be nothing.”

“Tell me.”

Lightning flashed off in the distance, illuminating the front windows. A distant boom of thunder followed. And still, he couldn’t seem to force the words out. The longer he stood there, the more he felt like he’d jumped the gun. The whiskey and his hangover were dulling his brain, not to mention the lateness of the hour.

“Well?” she prompted.

“Forget it. It’s stupid. I’ll do what you said, try to catch Dillon in the morning before your training session. Sorry I bothered you so late.” He circled around her and headed for the door. He’d just flipped the dead bolt and was reaching for the doorknob when she grabbed it instead. He looked at her in question.

“You’re not leaving yet. Something bothered you enough to come over here close to midnight to talk to me. It wasn’t just to tell me you were sorry. What’s going on? Talk to me.”

He dropped his hand and shook his head. “Forget it. I’m sure it’s just the storm interfering with signals. Or maybe they’re all too ticked at me to answer. I ignored dozens of texts and calls from you, and it didn’t mean I needed help.”

“Blake, if you don’t start making sense, I swear I’m going to shoot you.”

By the irritated look on her face, he didn’t doubt that she would. He let out a deep breath and prepared himself for her laughter. “Dillon’s missing.”

She blinked. Then blinked again.

“See?” he said. “Told you it was stupid. It’s nonsense. I went off half-cocked and still half-drunk and imagined all sorts of crazy things. I’m sure he’s fine.” He reached for the doorknob, motioning for her to move her hand.

She suddenly stood on her tiptoes, leaned in close and sniffed.

He jerked back. “What are you doing?”

“Seeing if I can smell whiskey on your breath.”

He gritted his teeth. “I’m not drunk. I haven’t touched a drop since you left me at the bar.”

“And yet you said that Dillon’s missing. What does that mean?”

The smile hovering on her lips had him feeling even more ridiculous. “I wanted to talk to him, like I said. So as soon as I sobered up, I called, both cell phone and radio. He didn’t answer.”

She shrugged. “Why would he? He fired you. I doubt he ever wants to talk to you again. Which is why you need to go see him in person—”

“I did. I went to his horse ranch. He wasn’t there. Neither was his wife and daughter. The guy who oversees the operations—”

“Griffin.”

He nodded. “Griffin. He said Mrs. Gray and her daughter had gone off on some cruise. But he didn’t know where Dillon was. He figured he was still in the woods, conducting training exercises.”

“What time was this?”

“Close to nine, I imagine.”

She glanced past him, probably to the wall clock that he’d noticed over the TV earlier. “It’s way too late to try calling him again. I’m sure he’s okay, though. Dillon’s one of the most capable men I know. He—”

“I called Randy, too.”

“Okay. What did he say about Dillon?”

“Nothing. Randy didn’t answer his phone either.”

Her brow furrowed. “That’s not like him. Even if he was upset, which is a rare thing for him, he wouldn’t have ignored your call.”

“That was my thought, too. So I called Max. Then Chris. I even tried the chief, on his home phone. No one answered any of my calls. I would have at least expected the chief’s wife to answer.”

She shook her head. “She’s on the cruise with Ashley. All the team’s wives went—Dillon’s wife, Ashley, and their baby, the chief’s wife, Claire, Max’s wife, Bex, and Chris’s wife, Julie. It’s a law-enforcement family cruise some charity put together, a getaway for the families who do so much to support their law-enforcement loved ones. That’s how it was advertised, anyway. That’s why Dillon scheduled the training this weekend. I could have sworn you knew all this. Scenic Cruises? Out of Miami? It was organized by some charity group out of Knoxville. I’m sure Dillon mentioned it.”

“I’m sure he mentions lots of things to you. He and I rarely speak unless he’s ordering me around or telling me I screwed up.” He waved his hand in the air. “Forget it. That’s not the point. I tried calling all of them tonight. No one answered. It’s highly likely that they’re ignoring me because of what happened today, and I overreacted. But I couldn’t ignore it without letting you know. Just in case.”

“Just in case what?”

He fisted his hands at his sides, feeling like an idiot. But he’d gone this far. He might as well go all in. “In case the entire SWAT team was abducted. Minus you and me, of course.”

She blinked again. Then she started laughing.

He endured her laughter for a full minute. He couldn’t take more than that. He brushed her hand off the doorknob and yanked open the door.

“Blake, wait. I’m sorry. Please don’t go. I shouldn’t have laughed at you. But you know cell service around here is awful. Your calls probably didn’t even go through.”

Since her voice was still laced with laughter, he didn’t bother to reply. He strode out of the house and took the porch steps two at a time.

“Blake?”

He hopped into his truck and took off down the road, punching the gas to give free rein to his sour mood and temper. That was when he hit the first huge pothole. The front right tire slammed into the hole, and the entire truck lurched at a sickening angle before the tire popped out again. He cursed and was forced to slow to a near crawl. It took him a good ten minutes just to reach the end of the street-from-hell.

A flash of white zoomed at him from the left. He jerked around to see Donna’s white Ford Escape barreling onto the road from an overgrown field. He swore and slammed his brakes, skidding and coming to a bouncing halt just a few feet from her driver’s side door.

She stopped too, her face looking pale and drawn as she stared at him through her driver’s side window, illuminated by his headlights. Before he could even unbuckle his seat belt, she was out of her SUV and running to his passenger door. He pushed the button to roll down the window.

“What the hell was that for?” he demanded. “You almost made me run right into you.”

“I called them,” she said. “The whole team. No one answered. I sent a group text. Nothing.” She swallowed, looking visibly shaken. “I even tried the radio. All I got was static. It’s not raining anymore. We can’t blame the storm now. I can see them not answering your calls. But they wouldn’t worry me like this. My God, Blake. What’s going on?”

He popped open the passenger door. “Get in.”

Chapter Five (#u4616cb0c-7ce0-5f3c-83fe-5b659724d9ea)

Blake slowed his truck to turn down a gravel road that would lead them to the wooded area where they’d conducted the paintball exercise that morning. Beside him, Donna clutched a flashlight in her hands, anxiously staring through the windshield.

“What happened after I left Hawkins Ridge?” he asked. “Did Dillon take the team to another training site, maybe in one of those communication dead zones? Since you didn’t have a partner at that point, I would guess he sent you home early. Maybe they decided to stay late, or came back for round two long after you were gone.” He steered around a rut in the road.